ذَهَبَ الَّذينَ عَلَيهِمُ وَجدي

ذَهَبَ الَّذينَ عَلَيهِمُ وَجدي

وَبَقيتُ بَعدَ فِراقِهم وَحدي

وَبَقيتُ بَعدَ فِراقِهم وَحدي

Those for whom I grieve have gone,

Those whom my affection clung have gone and left me;

Gone are those for whom I bear deep sorrow,

And I am left alone after their departure.

Alone I stay, bereft of friends and loved ones.

And after their departure, I remain alone.

مَن كانَ بَينَكَ في التُرابِ وَبَينَهُ

مَن كانَ بَينَكَ في التُرابِ وَبَينَهُ

شِبرانِ فَهوَ بِغايَةِ البُعدِ

شِبرانِ فَهوَ بِغايَةِ البُعدِ

Whoever is separated from you in the earth by

If but two handspans of earth divide the quick

He who lies in the dust with naught but two spans

Two handspans is as far away as can be.

From dead, that breadth is deepest chasm wide.

Between you and him, is at the furthest distance.

لَو كُشِّفَت لِلمَرءِ أَطباقُ الثَرى

لَو كُشِّفَت لِلمَرءِ أَطباقُ الثَرى

لَم يُعرَفِ المَولى مِنَ العَبدِ

لَم يُعرَفِ المَولى مِنَ العَبدِ

If the layers of soil were laid bare to a person,

Could graves be opened, none might know his lord

If the layers of the earth were uncovered for man,

The master could not be distinguished from the slave.

Or slave, so changed what shrouding earth doth hide.

The master could not be distinguished from the slave.

مَن كانَ لا يَطَأُ التُرابَ بِرِجلِهِ

مَن كانَ لا يَطَأُ التُرابَ بِرِجلِهِ

يَطأُ التُرابَ بِناعِمِ الخَدِّ

يَطأُ التُرابَ بِناعِمِ الخَدِّ

He who once did not tread the earth with his foot

He who treads not the soil beneath his feet

He who once would not tread upon the ground with his foot,

Treads the earth with his tender cheek.

Shall have it piled above his brow and cheek.

Now treads upon the dust with his delicate cheek.